


Turning Tables

by spacehussy



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-22
Updated: 2011-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-18 21:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehussy/pseuds/spacehussy
Summary: "The one thing I can't figure out, though," murmured Vortex, "is why they put you here with me in the first place."First Aid hesitated. "On some outlying colonies like this, it's a crime to offer aid to a Decepticon," he said quietly.





	Turning Tables

**Author's Note:**

> Written for, and hugely inspired by @ultharkitty :) <3

For a very long time, Vortex did nothing more than stare quietly up at the sky.  
  
"What's stopping me from flying out of here?" he asked, after a while. Although the question should have been rhetorical, Vortex looked as though he expected an answer.  
  
First Aid sighed a little and kept his distance. A few meters didn't mean much on an empty field, but it gave him a measure of comfort.  
  
"Aside from your busted rotor? A forcefield, most likely." He stared up as well, looking for a shimmer of energy, some sign that they were well and truly trapped, even if Vortex could somehow fly. He couldn't pick it up visually, but other sensors could confirm it. "This is primarily a Cybertronian settlement," he added. "They've surely had other flight-based frames here."  
  
"Feh," Vortex scoffed, turning back towards the gate. It was large, towering over them, capable of keeping mechs twice their size imprisoned. And Vortex was climbing it. Again.  
  
This time, First Aid said nothing. His advice hadn't been heeded the first or second time, he doubted it would make a difference the third. Instead he sat on the hot dirt, faced away, and listened for the inevitable crack of electricity as Vortex reached the top.  
  
It didn't take long; two breems and the gate went live. First Aid clapped his hands over his audial sensors as it blew Vortex to the ground, twitching.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked, unable to help himself. He got up and made his way to Vortex's side, painfully aware he'd probably regret it.  
  
In lieu of replying, Vortex twitched again and let out a quiet moan. First Aid frowned and didn't touch him. "Are you done now?" he demanded. He generally considered himself to be a patient bot, but today was not an average day.  
  
"I think maybe," sighed Vortex drowsily. "I can't feel my hands."  
  
"I'm sure it's temporary. Now please stop doing that."  
  
Vortex turned his head to look at him.  
  
"Getting yourself electrocuted isn't very productive," he continued. "It's not going to help you escape and I find it distressing to listen to you in pain."  
  
Vortex's visor flickered strangely and First Aid promptly regretted saying anything at all. "I – in any case, my point is _stop_. We're stuck here, for the time being at least."  
  
Stuck together in an abandoned prison colony. Seemingly abandoned, at any rate- First Aid couldn't detect any other prisoners, and he was undecided if that was a good or bad thing. It was the two of them and a vast, dusty field. More economical than holding cells, apparently.  
  
"You know, you're kind of cute when you're bossy," Vortex said thoughtfully, interrupting his train of thought. First Aid moved further away and ignored the comment. He heard Vortex chuckle, then take a few steps forward. For an instant First Aid tensed in dread, but Vortex only came to his side, looking out at the empty field with him.  
  
For a moment, it was almost peaceful.  
  
"The one thing I can't figure out, though," murmured Vortex, "is why they put you here with me in the first place."  
  
First Aid hesitated. "On some outlying colonies like this, it's a crime to offer aid to a Decepticon," he said quietly. Vortex seemed surprised.  
  
"Ah. That's not very...Autobot-y."  
  
"No, it is not," First Aid laughed. "But that's just how it is." Especially on worlds that still felt the sting of Decepticon invasion and destruction. He could not blame their jailors, no more than he could ignore his own function, the need to repair a dying Decepticon, even if it landed him...here.  
  
Vortex laughed again, turning towards him.  
  
"Then I owe you my thanks," he said, in an uncomfortably soft voice, one that made First Aid itch to get away. He'd done what he needed to do, but now it was time to remember he was trapped with a Decepticon.  
  
"You can save your gratitude," First Aid replied, trying not to sound anxious. Polite but firm, that was it. He couldn't give an inch, or display a moment's vulnerability with a Decepticon, especially not this one. "What _I_ don't understand is why they let us keep our weapons."  
  
More to the point, why they would let _Vortex_ keep his weapon? First Aid could hardly remember the last time he'd drawn his own.  
  
"What does it matter to them if we kill each other? After all, we're enemies. Right?" Vortex added in a flirtatious drawl, which again, First Aid chose to ignore.  
  
Instead, he started walking. Putting some distance between himself and Vortex seemed like the best possible idea at the moment.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Away from you. My team can negotiate for my release. I won't be here long." He couldn't communicate with them but he could sense their intentions and efforts. They were already working to get him free, it was only a matter of time.  
  
A soft click from behind him. First Aid sighed. He knew what he would see before he even turned; Vortex with his rifle raised, his head cocked.  
  
"I think I'd prefer it if you stayed right here, actually."  
  
First Aid stared at him tiredly. "Is this how you thank me for saving you?"  
  
Vortex stepped forward until the muzzle of the rifle was just touching his shoulder wheel. Humming curiously, Vortex applied some pressure. First Aid refused to budge, nor did he draw his weapon.  
  
Leaning close, Vortex whispered. "I've barely begun to thank you."  
  
Of course. First Aid shuttered his optics. "Lucky me."  
  
"Let's take a walk." Vortex gestured with his rifle and First Aid shook his head. No, no, no. Vortex seemed to find that funny. "You were in a hurry to get moving a minute ago."  
  
"I was trying to get away from you," First Aid hissed through a clenched jaw. "I don't want to go anywhere with you."  
  
"I was hoping we could see the sights together."  
  
"No, thank you."  
  
Vortex chuckled again, and the tip of his rifle touched First Aid in the center of his chest plate before dragging down across his midsection. "That wasn't a question."  
  
"Vortex-"  
  
"Yes, First Aid?" Vortex said, downright cheerfully, and First Aid shuddered. There was something awful about that, something he couldn't make sense of. It stood to logic that Vortex would know his name, but hearing him say it was intrinsically wrong, and First Aid couldn't help but recoil.  
  
Seeing his discomfort, Vortex poked him with the rifle again. "You were saying something?"  
  
"You don't have to do this," First Aid finished, after a klik.  
  
Vortex hummed; a short, noncommittal sound. The gun teased against a panel on his midsection, but First Aid refused to flinch.  
  
"In a way you're right. I don't." Vortex tapped the muzzle against him once more. Hard. "And yet here we are. Let's walk."  
  
For an instant, First Aid thought of transforming, of getting as much distance as he could between himself and Vortex- and it occurred to him that Vortex had been content to flirt with him uncomfortably until he had tried to leave. Even flightless, Vortex would catch up to him eventually, and then what?  
  
"A-alright," he murmured, taking the lead. He didn't know where he was going, but with Vortex's rifle pressed to the small of his back, he had all the navigation he needed.  
  


* * *

  
  
They walked for a joor. Longer. They walked until the sky was dark, all the while Vortex's gun never left his plating. They discovered there was nothing in their prison, no one but them and a pile of rocks at the very center. At some point, the rocks had been part of some small settlement. There was metal in the dirt, half buried Cybertronian bodies and bones of aliens all around.  
  
"Looks like we're the first guests they've had in a while," Vortex said conversationally. First Aid felt a hand clap his shoulder. "You can stop. We're alone after all."  
  
First Aid stopped moving, but the gun was still pressed to his back. It was getting incredibly tiresome.  
  
"That was all you wanted to do?" he asked incredulously, and Vortex laughed. He hadn't moved his hand. It remained flat and heavy on First Aid's shoulder.  
  
"I did tell you I wanted us to see the sights."  
  
"Well there they are," First Aid said. "We've seen them. You can put away your rifle, where am I going to go?"  
  
"Good point," Vortex said, but the rifle remained. After a moment, the tip scraped downward again, a caress against his aft, and First Aid flinched.  
  
"Stop," he snapped. "Just... stop it, please."  
  
A soft hum from Vortex, and the muzzle just pressed lower, sliding between his legs- and First Aid could not take it another instant. He turned on his heels, reaching for the gun. Although stunned, Vortex didn't surrender it easily, and within seconds they were on the ground. First Aid cried out in shock and pain as Vortex's weight hit him, wrists twisting painfully as he wrestled for the rifle.  
  
Vortex's knees were around his, his heavy body crushing him into the dirt as they struggled. First Aid felt his fists close around the barrel and, taking extreme care not to set it off, he wrenched it from Vortex's hands and tossed it to the side.  
  
It took Vortex several moments to realize what he had done. He looked ready to launch after it again but instead he only stared down at First Aid and laughed.  
  
"All of that and you didn't even shoot me? That's adorable." The body above him purred, and First Aid realized with horror that Vortex had no intention of getting up. If anything, Vortex was getting _comfortable_.  
  
First Aid wriggled, squirming to get out from under him, but Vortex's weight kept him in place. There were hands on him now, pawing curiously, looking for a reaction. No, no, no-  
  
"Fight me, Autobot," moaned Vortex. "I wanna feel it."  
  
Horrified but unable to stop himself, First Aid struggled harder - Vortex wasn't much larger than him, but he knew how to use his weight to disable and restrain. A hand gripped his shoulder wheel and squeezed till First Aid cried out sharply.  
  
"Don't- aah-" he yelled, pushing back until his hands were knocked to the side. He had to have known this was inevitable, that it didn't matter if he had saved Vortex's life or not. Blades was always saying he was much too optimistic for his own good.  
  
Could they feel him now? Could they feel what was happening to him, his fear and pain?  
  
With a sob in his core systems, First Aid flattened his palms against the dirt. His body went slack under Vortex's weight and he focused everything he had on blocking the gestalt bond. They were what mattered, not Vortex.  
  
Immediately, Vortex sat up a little to stare at him. "Don't tell me you're bored already," he said, sounding disappointed.  
  
"You want me to fight, so I won't. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction." He wouldn't. It terrified him to the core to lie there, to take the chance and endure what Vortex wanted to do to him- it went beyond his nature to do no harm. His instincts told him the fight was what Vortex craved.  
  
He forced himself to go limp, desperately preventing the rest of the gestalt from sensing his dread and pain. He could sense their confusion in response, followed by urgency– they would get him, he just had to hold out a little more.  
  
Vortex stared down at him, very disappointed at his slack body, his lack of reaction. Just as First Aid began to think Vortex had become bored, and would surely move on to something else-  
  
"I've got an idea," he said, and First Aid held back a whimper. "Why don't I play with your bits like you played with mine? Got any sharp tools?"  
  
"That was to save your life," First Aid whispered. "You're only grounded until someone can finish what I started."  
  
"That's a thought. Do you regret it, Autobot? Regret saving me?" Vortex pressed more, his mask scraping against First Aid's throat, gray hands pinning his to the dirt. First Aid couldn't answer that, would never, but helplessly he remembered Vortex crashing to the ground before him with a ruptured line bleeding out bright and fast. A fatal injury, but a good medic with the right tools could handle it, and so he did.  
  
Even now, First Aid could feel the jagged edges of the patch scratching against his own plating. He'd installed it out of whatever materials he could get his hands on- it was a part of Vortex's own rotor, cut off to save his life.  
  
First Aid made a soft sound, a whimper. "Is that what you want? For me to say that I wish I'd let you die?"  
  
Vortex chuckled against him. "No, but you can't blame a mech for being curious."  
  
"Let me up," First Aid said, a note of pleading in his voice. He was sick of Vortex's mind games, he just wanted to be left alone.  
  
"But I don't want to." Vortex nuzzled his throat; with his battle mask up, it was another rough scrape across sensitive cables. Pain echoed throughout his sensornet and First Aid struggled despite himself.  
  
"Mm, that's it," moaned Vortex. Absently he petted First Aid's midsection, for a minute he seemed content to do nothing else. Eventually his patience wore out, and he began to search for panel seams with his fingertips.  
  
In a small panic, First Aid exclaimed, "Wait, no no no, if you connect to me, our systems will sync-"  
  
"That's kind of the point. Haven't you done this before?" Vortex laughed again, and there was a perverse lilt to it that made First Aid's plating crawl.  
  
"That's not what I mean. I'm a medic. I'll link up to your cortex."  
  
Vortex did pause, then. "That a threat?"  
  
"It's just facts. The process is automatic." It gave him a level of access to another mech's processing systems in a way his gestalt were prepared for, and even enjoyed. He doubted an enemy soldier would feel the same-  
  
"Sounds kinky," said Vortex, trying to pry open the panel with renewed interest. "Why not."  
  
First Aid stammered to respond. He didn't want this. For a terrifying instant he wished his team were with him, Blades could stop him, Blades would be willing to hurt Vortex in a way he couldn't, anything to make him stop-  
  
"I don't think you understand," First Aid said shakily, making himself focus. "Maybe you'll like it for a klik or two but I could start overriding functions, even take control of your motor relays, if I wanted."  
  
"If that's true, why are you _telling me_?" scoffed Vortex.  
  
"Because I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to do any of those things," First Aid admitted, but his voice grew hard as he continued, "but I can. I will."  
  
For a long time, Vortex silently considered that information, until he seemed to come to a decision.  
  
"Well if you don't want to fight me, why don't you just give in?" he purred. His weight was on First Aid again, but his hands were no longer groping for First Aid's interfacing array. "I'll make it good. Promise."  
  
It was greatly terrifying to First Aid that the con on top of him would just as soon consensually interface with him as force him, as though it made no difference.  
  
With terrifying ease, Vortex reached under him and pried his legs apart, slipping his frame between them, thoroughly derailing any thoughts First Aid may have. "C'mon, Autobot. Don't just lie there. I'll be gentle." His fingers slid into pelvic armor gaps, finding and stimulating relay nodes he found there. It was relentless but not violent, and soon First Aid was shaking, his engine whining, even as his hands slapped against Vortex's chest to stop him.  
  
"Please don't, please," First Aid begged. "What do you _want_ from me?"  
  
Something rumbled deep in Vortex's body, lustful and dark, and for a moment First Aid was certain he'd get no answer. Then Vortex's mask was dragging against his audial, making his processor buzz painfully.  
  
"Like I said, fight me. You can even use your gun, I know you carry one," Vortex said in a low moan. "Or you could relax and we can have a little fun. I won't tell."  
  
First Aid shook his head furiously. Vortex's hands grasped at his hips, making it hard to focus.  
  
"Not going to happen," he hissed. "One way or another you're not going to get any satisfaction from me. I'm not going to play along, and I'm not going to fight you."  
  
No response. Vortex didn't move or speak. First Aid stared up at him but he was unreadable. First Aid was terrified still, even as he lifted his chin in defiance. The wrong move, the wrong word, and the games would be over. Vortex would be tired of playing.  
  
"I should probably tell you I don't deal with disappointment very well," Vortex said softly, after a painstakingly long time.  
  
Unexpectedly, First Aid laughed. He couldn't even help it.  
  
"You're going to have to," he said. "You could kill me, but then you'd be by yourself in here. I think you want that even less."  
  
Although he couldn't quite make it out, Vortex appeared to twitch slightly. For an instant First Aid worried he'd gone too far, and Vortex would kill him outright after all.  
  
"You..." Vortex murmured, disbelieving. "You are a little too clever for your own good."  
  
"I suppose I am," First Aid said, trying not to tremble. "Now please stop touching me like- that."  
  
He waited, not letting his gaze waver, and finally Vortex sighed in disappointment and simply flopped down on top of him. First Aid stared at him in confusion; he wasn't being groped anymore, but he wasn't sure what to make of _this_.  
  
"I'm sorry, what," he started, not sure if he should be afraid or not. Vortex made a noise against his chest and shifted until, presumably, he was comfortable.  
  
"You didn't say anything about me lying down," said Vortex, and there was an edge of sulk to the words.  
  
First Aid pushed at him, more annoyed than scared. Was this some other game?  
  
"Why are you-" he sputtered, and Vortex tilted his head up to glance at him.  
  
"Am I hurting you?" He almost sounded concerned.  
  
"No, but-"  
  
Vortex wasn't listening. He put his head back down on First Aid's chest, making a soft contented sound. His hands, however, stayed on the ground beside them. If they brushed his body, it seemed incidental rather than deliberate.  
  
Several times, First Aid began to object but couldn't seem to get the words out. This wasn't right. Nothing about it. He just couldn't seem to communicate it to Vortex. Eventually, he stopped bothering. It was uncomfortable and confusing but, for the moment, not causing him any harm.  
  


* * *

  
  
For hours, very little changed. Vortex shifted from time to time, settling down, until he shifted in such a way that his head came to First Aid's midsection. Despite the spike of dread in First Aid as it happened, nothing came of it – if anything, Vortex appeared to drop off into recharge, or close to it, not long after. With less weight pushing down on his chest... even First Aid felt more comfortable, but he could not rest.  
  
Mostly, he stared at the sky. From time to time he caught a ripple of changing light refracting off the force field above him, but the prison field was silent and dark for a very long while.  
  
He was starting to feel exhausted. He hadn't recharged since the day before, and as hard as it was to even think of recharging in his situation, the feeling grew impossible to ignore.  
  
Although he couldn't say exactly when it happened, he began to doze off. His optics blinked out for what felt like an instant and the field was full of sunlight. His body stiffened in terror for one intense second but he quickly found that Vortex had not moved. He was awake, watching First Aid curiously, and most importantly he was keeping his hands to himself.  
  
"About time you woke up," Vortex said, and First Aid could hear the smug smile in his voice.  
  
"I'm really not in the mood to talk to you," he replied. As if he ever could be.  
  
Vortex shrugged. "Suit yourself." He put his head back down to First Aid's midsection, fondly nuzzling it. Before First Aid could snap at him to stop, he felt a familiar surge of the gestalt bond that knocked everything else to the background.  
  
He could feel them, and they were not far. They had to be on the planet, if not within the prison walls itself. Vortex's weight was the only thing keeping him from jumping upright and running for them as soon as possible.  
  
For one thing, it occurred to him that Vortex would not look kindly upon being left behind in their awful prison.  
  
Staying still, First Aid sent out a wordless ping. If they were in communications range, surely-  
  
_I'm here,_ Hot Spot said, the most beautiful words First Aid could have hoped to hear. _We're here. Where are you? Are you okay?_  
  
First Aid almost sobbed with relief and worse. Hearing Hot Spot's voice filled him with so many aching, conflicting emotions- he could not hide what transpired with Vortex, the horror of it, but worse, the confusion it brought him. What would they think of him?  
  
In any case, it didn't matter now. He wanted to be with his gestalt.  
  
_It's so good to hear your voice,_ First Aid almost whimpered aloud. He sent his relief and love out to each of them, treasuring the swell of turbulently happy feelings he got in reply. _I'm alright. We're in the center of the field, in the rocks. Vortex is with me, he may be difficult to leave behind._  
  
He felt an odd reaction from Hot Spot then, embarrassment and annoyance.  
  
_About that. His team is here too. Temporary ceasefire. Rodimus negotiated for you both. Didn't want to leave Vortex in here, I guess._  
  
First Aid glanced around at the dried husks of Cybertronian bodies. He wondered how long they had been there, it was impossible to tell.  
  
_I can't say I blame him_ , First Aid replied.  
  
_You wouldn't._ The bond was rich with fondness then, and it didn't matter to First Aid he was lying in a graveyard with a Decepticon nuzzling his midsection. He was going home. _See you soon._  
  
First Aid sagged against the ground in relief.  
  
"Get off, they're coming," he said, shaking Vortex's shoulder. "Your team too, not just mine."  
  
"Don't care," Vortex mumbled in response.  
  
"I don't care that you don't care. Get off _now_ ," First Aid said again, firmly. That did the trick. Vortex stirred against him, shifting off.  
  
"Mmm. Yes, sir," he replied in a laugh. First Aid could sense he was being teased, but there was something in Vortex's voice, a thready rumble of arousal.  
  
"Stop that," snapped First Aid, flustered and tired. Vortex sat up on his hands and knees, watching him. First Aid wanted nothing more than to shy away from his stare, but he held himself up with a confidence he barely felt. "They'll be here shortly. Don't do anything that would make my team undo all the work I did trying to save you."  
  
Although he couldn't quite tell for certain, Vortex seemed amused by that.  
  
"It's really too bad, you know," he said wistfully, his gaze sweeping over First Aid's body. "We could have had a lot of fun."  
  
First Aid could not suppress his shudder. "I'd prefer not to think about it, thank you."  
  
Vortex laughed. "Well, there's always next time."


End file.
